I Will Keep You Safe
by kristen5286
Summary: "And then she heard the words that saved her. The only words that could filter through the cold and keep her skin from hardening like ice. They came from the least likely person in her life she had ever expected to protect her, but who always had." "Don't worry Little Bird, I won't hurt you."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a Sansan fanfic. There will be many parts of this story told from Sandor's POV. He cusses and is crude. I will write him the same way. If foul language and sex (eventually) are not your thing, you should stop reading now. Actually, you should avoid all M rated GoT fanfics in the future because that's kinda the premise of the show. Death, language, sex, and politics. Also, I kind of bounce around from one character's POV to the next without any divided sections. I like to know what's going on inside everyone's head at all times. One sided stories are not my favorite. Just a heads up if you get a bit confused.**

 **Also, I am going to fudge the timeline a little bit and change some of the things that happened in the show so that it fits with my story. If you're familiar with the show you'll notice the differences. I haven't read much of the books so this is solely based on the series. Sorry diehards. Don't hate it until you've read it. And of course, I own nothing.**

Chapter 1

 _Baby blue staring in the window pane_

 _Just counting drops of rain_

 _Wondering if she's got the guts to take it_

 _Running down her dreams in a dirty dress_

 _Now her heart's a mess_

 _Praying she will find a way to make it_

Sansa lay on the bed in her parents old chambers. It was large and comfortable under her, though the sheets were stained red. Ramsay hand't changed anything in here. The furs on the bed were the same. The rug in front of the hearth, the chairs, the desk her father used to work from. It was all the same. She imagined he did that on purpose. Just another source of agony for her. It was as if they were watching every night as her captor raped and tortured her. Some nights she imagined her father breaking down the door and killing Ramsay with a swift swing from Ice. She tried to picture how it would feel to have his blood splatter on her skin instead of the other way around. She smiled at the thought of the warm liquid running through her fingers as the life slowly left his body.

In the beginning she used to fight him. Used to fight back. She would yell and kick and scream as he ripped her clothes from her body, using his knife and fists on her in ways no true Lord ever should. He had left her face alone. He wanted her pretty, he used to say. Joffrey used to say that. They weren't much different, Ramsay and Joffrey. The only difference was that Ramsay had actually gotten to claim her as his, whereas Joffrey hadn't. Her marriage to Tyrion had saved her from his torturous hands. Once she realized that her fighting and struggling had only made him more hungry with desire to harm her she stopped. She could not avoid his savage hands, but she could avoid making it more pleasurable for him.

She had run out of tears months ago. She laid there, motionless, and let him use her in whichever way he saw fit that night and when he left her alone and cold she did not cry. She'd only curl into a ball on the bed and stare out the window into the night. Her mind empty of thoughts. She did not know how long she went on like this. How much time had passed. She only knew that it grew colder outside as the days went on. As the weeks turned into months she wished with all that was in her that her window was large enough for her to squeeze through and that it was high enough that it would end her life if she fell from it. It was neither.

Night after night, week after week, month after month, she laid there in her parents bed and suffered at his hands. She was lucky in one sense. He had wanted an heir so badly that he hadn't shared her with anyone else. She loathed the day she would become with child and he would pass her around like a pitcher of wine and let any and everyone have a taste. But she also feared the day that she would conceive. Any child she had would be half his. He would get to hold her baby, take her baby from her, raise that child. She feared for it's life even before it had been created.

Some days she left the room to accompany Ramsay to a meal or to walk around the grounds. He wanted to show her off. She was a Stark after all. The key to the North. She felt like a stranger in her own home. She did not recognize any of the faces she passed. She would eat with her husband in the hall that she grew up in. He spent the meals taunting her or whoever else he wanted as the mood struck him. Roose was seeing to the repairs of the castle. It had been burnt to the ground by Ramsay after Theon had been betrayed by his own men. No, not Theon. Reek.

When she had first seen Theon she hated him. He had killed her brothers. Because of him she only had one left. One bastard brother. She hated him for what he did to Rickon and Bran. They had been his brothers too. He grew up here within the walls of Winterfell as their ward. They treated him as one of their own. Arya was as good as dead for all she knew. Jon was her only living close relative. Theon had been in the kennels with the hounds and looked worse off than they had. She wanted to kill him right then and there. But she hadn't. Years of training her to be a lady had taught her to reign in her emotions. Instead she slung hateful words towards the traitor every time she saw him. That wasn't very ladylike but it was her compromise for not killing him. Her anger was not just for her lost brothers, but also for the way her husband abused and used her. She felt no remorse for the hateful words she spoke.

One night in her room he had accidentally let it slip that he hadn't killed Rickon and Bran. He confessed that the two young children he had murdered had been a farmer's sons. She hated herself for how relieved she felt. Though she was glad that here brothers were safe, she felt horrible at the fact that she wasn't bothered that two random boys were killed in their place. That was the world she lived in, however. It was what it was and there was no changing it.

When the truth was out she was finally able to see Theon for who he had become. He was a broken and empty shell of the boy she grew up with. Her words full of hate turned to kind and uplifting words. Now instead of trying to hurt him every chance she got she tried to build him up. She refused to call him Reek and called him Theon Greyjoy instead. She reminded him he was heir to the Iron Islands. He tried to hush her every time she spoke but she would stare intently into his eyes and remind him time and again.

She needed him to be strong for her. He was her only connection to her past and her family. The only thing to remind her of a better time, before everything had changed. When Ramsay was around she had to remind herself to be indifferent towards Theon. She did not know what he would do if he discovered that his wife and his pet had mended their friendship and forged a bond. She was still strong enough to endure much more of his cruelty, but she didn't think Theon could. She knew he was on the brink of insanity and being lost completely.

One day as she walked along the battlements she came across Ramsay's scorned lover, Myranda. Her and Theon shared a look as the girl aimed an arrow at Sansa. Sansa told the girl she was ready to die, but the girl only laughed. "Silly girl, who said anything about dying?" Sansa's face fell as she realized the girl wouldn't take her out of her misery. Myranda taunted her still, lowering her bow and arrow to say "You can't die. Your father was Warden of the North. Ramsay needs you... Though I suppose he doesn't need all of you." She threatened and raised her bow once more. She asked Sansa "He doesn't need all of you, only the parts that will give him an heir. Should we wait for him to get back or should we begin now?" Sansa refused to respond, not giving her the satisfaction. Her plan failed. The girl responded "You're leaving it to me? Good." And she aimed her arrow at Sansa's arm. She shot the arrow but missed Sansa as Theon charged her and pushed her over the edge of the battlements. The girl screamed in horror as Theon pushed her to her overdue death. Her life ceased to exist once her body crashed upon the frozen stone below. Blood staining the ground around her.

Sansa and Theon looked to each their as the Bolton men rode though the gates of Winterfell. Panic had begun to set in as the realization of what had just happened sunk in. Theon grabbed her hand firmly and dragged her along, making her follow him. They stood on the ramparts and looked down at the snow covered ground. Theon grasped her hand firmly in his own and they looked at each other one last time before they jumped to their freedom or their death. Which one they would encounter, they did not know. As she fell she felt free for the first time in years. As the wind whipped though her hair she imagined she was flying and closed her eyes and smiled at the thought.

Lying on her back she wondered if she was still alive. After a few moments she believed that she wouldn't be in so much pain if she had perished. Theon stood first and reached a hand out to help Sansna stand and then they ran towards the gates of Winterfell and escaped with their lives. They ran and ran until they reached a river.

"You have to cross." Theon pleaded to her.

"Won't you come with me?" She asked him. He stopped and looked at her solemnly. "I can't." He said.

"You are my brother, Theon. I can't leave without you." She pleads to the eunuch, begging him to come with her.

He looks down, unable to look her in the eyes. He is no longer Theon Greyjoy. He is Reek. The creature that Ramsay created. But then, unexpectadly, Theon breaks though. "I must leave you. I am sorry Sansa, but I need to go home. I need to help Yara." Sansa nods her head and reaches out to him. She hugs him harder than she knew she had the strength to. She feels him resist the hug at first. The only thing he's felt physically for years was pain. Slowly he returned her hug and she heard him breathe in deeply, drawing out some of her strength to keep for himself. She let him go and they looked at each other another moment before he says "I will see you again, Sansa. I promise." She nods and watches him as he leaves her, headed south.

After he disappears she hears the hounds in the distance. She looked at the river with disdain, not wanting to go through the fridgid water. The dogs bark closer and she has no choice but to cross. Maybe she'll get lucky and the hounds will lose her scent. The water is unbearably cold as she puts her right foot in the water. She steps in only to fall back on the frozen bank. Her breathing is labored as she tries to ready herself to walk across. The hounds howl louder and closer to her than before. Fear grips ahold of her and she sucks in a deep breath as she stands and pushes through the pain of the freezing water and wades out across the river. She gasps loudly as the water comes up to her waist. She walks as fast as she can with her heavy winter dress and cloak on and struggles for air on the opposite shore. She falls to the ground and tries to catch her breath. As it steadies she stands and begins walking, lifting her drenched and heavy skirts as high as she can. She makes it to a fallen tree who's deep roots stand ten feet into the air. She is too cold and too close to death to continue on. She curls into the little fortress the roots have created and tries to disappear into the cold.

Time passes and she knows she must keep moving if she doesn't want to be discovered by Ramsay's men but she doesn't have the strength to stand. She is so cold. Too cold. She knows how dangerous getting wet in the cold North can be. She'd seen frozen bodies before, blue and black and hard as ice. Just as she was mustering up enough power in her body to stand she heard them. They were here.

Sansa peaked though the roots of the fallen tree and watched as the hounds lead their handler closer and closer to her. She saw two men riding horses behind the man leading the hounds. Her heart sank. She was found. There was no escaping her hell. She would be returned to Ramsay and she was certain she would receive the worst torture he had yet to bestow upon her. She lowered her head in acceptance of her fate. She vowed that moment that she would find some way to end things. Maybe if she taunted him he would get too carried away and finish her off himself. That way she wouldn't have to do it herself. All these thoughts ran through her mind in a matter of seconds. She longed for a dagger or shard of glass that she could plunge into her neck, granting her a swift death.

The hounds were louder now and when she looked up she could see them in the clearing mere feet away from her. She backed up against the dead tree as far as she could go as they came to bark at her feet. Their teeth showing, snarling and hungry, saliva dripping from their growling muzzles. Sansa whimpered as the man looked down at her with a satisfied grin on his face. "Lord Bolton will be happy to have you back home, my Lady." He taunted her. She was cold and wet and defeated. She lowered her head, waiting to be dragged from her hiding place and back inside the walls of Winterfell.

In the distance she heard the sound of hooves galloping towards them at a fast pace. Sansa kept her head downcast, assuming it was another Bolton man come to aid in her recapture. She shivered, curling into her cloak as much as she could. The hounds retreated and then ran off. She could hear their whines get farther away. She was perplexed as to why the handler would let them loose to run off but the despair she felt at her circumstance kept her from raising her head to investigate the cause. She heard the clank of swords meeting in a violent manner and yelped, afraid she was going to be struck down this instant. Isn't that what she was just wishing for, though?

Sansa could easily hear the grunts of the men as they fought and the screams as they died. Bones crunched and and cracked as punches landed on their intended target. Whoever had come was doing a fine job at killing the Bolton men, even though he was outnumbered. She wondered who'd be fighting against them, instead of with them. They held the North at this time.

Since crossing the river she couldn't keep the cold out. It had seeped through the thick layers of her cloak and dress and had permeated her skin, chilling her to the bone. She felt her breathing slow as the cold took hold of her like a vise and was slowly squeezing every ounce of life out of her that remained. As far as deaths went, this was about as lucky as she could have gotten. This would be a fairly painless death, slowly slipping into a sleep to never wake again.

The first thing she noticed was the silence. It was deafening. She heard heavy steps come towards her and she closed her eyes once more, surrendering herself to death. She begged for the end to come, for the darkness to take her into it's open arms and hold her there for all eternity. The man, she assumed it had been a man considering he had defeated three soldiers with relative ease, crouched down in front of her. She found the strength to open her eyes, but she did not look up at him. Instead she stared at his worn leather boots. They weren't really appropriate for the cold weather of the North, she thought to herself. Not thick enough souls to protect from the frozen ground underneath. She shivered and his hand reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly. Why was he being so gentle?

And then she heard the words that saved her. The only words that could filter through the cold and keep her skin from hardening like ice. They came from the least likely person in her life she had ever expected to protect her, but who always had. The sound of his rough, yet soft voice rang in her ears and gave her enough strength to look up into his brown eyes. "Don't worry Little Bird, I won't hurt you." A small sob escaped her as she looked into the eyes of her savior.

He reached forward for her and gathered her up in his arms. She noticed that he was not wearing his dark armor. He only had on a tunic with a vest and breeches and a heavy, brown cloak. "You're wet." He said, assessing her condition. He placed her back down on the cold ground and removed her cloak and replaced it with his own. It was warm and smelled of him. Of sweat, and wood, and blood. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the scent. Committing it to memory. He placed her cloak over the back of one of the horses that hadn't run off during the fight and lifted her into the saddle. He climbed up behind her and pulled her close to his chest, using the heat from his body to help warm her.

He whispered in her ear, "I will keep you safe." As he made his promise he kicked the horse to get it going. She nestled back into his chest and reveled in the warmth she found there. She closed her eyes and let him hold her upright in the saddle with one arm around her middle. She didn't have the strength to stay awake any longer and she fell asleep. She finally felt safe for the first time in years there in his arms.

 **A/N2: Song is Fly by Maddie and Tae**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This update is coming much quicker than it normally will. I had already started on it last night when I posted the first chapter. At the very least I will post one update a week. Hopefully. Sometimes more. Thank you everyone who's reviewed and followed it already! It made my day! Hope y'all like this new chapter! And of course, I own nothing.**

Chapter 2

 _Look at me, my depth perception must be off again_

 _You got much closer than I thought you did_

 _I'm in your reach_

 _You held me in your hands_

He rode the horse hard, trying to put as much distance between them and Winterfell as he could. The Wall was at least a weeks ride North and he had nothing with him except for the clothes on his back, the horse he sat upon, and a few bags of coins he'd taken from the soldiers he had just killed. They wouldn't be needing them anymore where they were going. He didn't think hell had a currency.

He looked down at the auburn beauty asleep in his arm and regretted not taking at lease a spare cloak or bed roll before he had set off for Winterfell. When he had heard that she was still alive and married to the bastard Bolton he didn't think twice. He jumped on his horse and left the Brotherhood without Banners in the dust as he rode North to save the Little Bird. He had heard tales of what the little prick was like and didn't want her with him, suffering. It wasn't until he got close to the castle that he thought to consider why he had left to come save her.

She had never been his to worry about. He hadn't been her shield, her father, her husband, her brother. There was no reasonable explanation for why he had always felt the need to protect her. But he had done it anyway. As best he could at least. He couldn't always save her from the beatings and humiliations she had endured in Kings Landing. It torn him into pieces having to stand there and watch as the little twat Meryn Trant beat her and stripped her on Joffrey's command. He was glad that little shit was dead. He only wished he had been there to witness it himself. Or do it himself. Either would have sufficed.

She had been a innocent maiden caught up in everyone's games and used as a pawn to better the lives of those around her. She had done nothing to deserve the shit life she'd been handed. No one else in her family seemed to be able to protect the Little Bird. Now that he was free of any duties that would restrict him from keeping her safe he decided that he would protect her himself. Shit, he'd do a hell of a lot better job of it than anyone else around her could. If they had ever even bothered in the first place. It may not make much sense to anyone else why he would help her, it barely made any sense to him, but as he saw the walls around Winterfell take shape in the distance he had decided that he needed purpose in his life again. He decided that he would make her his purpose. Keep her safe and alive and out of harms way. Or he'd die trying.

That is if she let him stick around. He didn't know how she'd react when she woke up. Her sister had been none to happy to have him escorting her around Westeros, trying to find some of her family to pay him a reward for bringing her back to them safe and alive. But every time he got close to one of them, they up and got themselves killed, the fuckers. The little wolf bitch had gotten her revenge though, when she had left him to die alone on the side of that mountain. He wondered how she'd like knowing that he hadn't died. That he was still alive and well and toting her sister up to their Lord Comander half brother.

The light was fading fast in the western sky. They wouldn't be able to travel at night. Not this far North and not in this weather. The falling snow had made it hard enough to see during the day. They'd be blind by night. He searched around for a half hour, slowing the horse to a trot, trying to find the perfect spot. Finally he found what he had been looking for. He pulled on the reins to stop the horse in front of a fallen tree. It was a rather large tree and freshly felled. Probably from the harsh winds during a storm. It had thick branches that still had some frozen foliage on them. That would help to break the wind.

Before he dismounted he tried to stir the girl in his arms. His left arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her tight to his chest. She was leaning into his arm, her head resting on her shoulder. He leaned forward to try and see her face. He gently shook her around the middle as he said to her "Girl, it's time to wake up. Do you hear me Little Bird? It's time to stop for the night." At the sound of his pet name for her she stirred. Confused and disoriented, she looked up into his dark eyes and remembered where she was, who she was with, and why. She nodded her head in acknowledgement and sat up, holding onto the saddle while he slid off the horse from behind her.

The cold air immediately cut through her at the loss of his body heat. She shivered hard as he reached for her to help her off the steed. "Wait here." He said none too polite, but still, she did as she was told. He grabbed her cloak off the back of the horse and led the horse to a branch and tied him up for the night. The wind whipped around her, causing the hairs that had become free of her braid to fall across her face. She watched him as he tied the cloak up along some of the branches. He meant it to help block out the wind, as it was coming from behind the fabric.

He looked over to her and motioned with his hand for her to join him. "We will stay here for the night. I don't have any food or water, but you can suck on some of that snow. It'll do the job." He paused, looked around their little makeshift fort and said "There is an inn not far from here. A days ride away. It's the last one until the Wall. We'll stop there tomorrow and get some supplies and sleep and eat a real meal. It'll be our last for the week." Sansa nodded in understanding.

They stood there, not saying a thing and not looking at each other as the awkward silence grew between them. She looked at him, finally, and noticed he was shivering. Instantly she felt horrible. He'd given his only protection from the cold to her. She reached for the ties of the cloak and began to undo it. "What are you doing, girl?" He said, his voice stopping her actions. "I have your cloak, you're cold." She said. "You'll be keeping that on." He said and turned to unsaddle the horse.

Sansa had so many questions she wanted to ask him. Why had he come to save her? How did he know where she was? What did he want from her? But now wasn't the time. She was too cold and too tired to talk that much. She stood there watching him as he tended to the horse. After the saddle was off he had rubbed it down with his hands because he did not have a brush. He bent down and gathered some of the soft snow in his hands and held it up to the horses mouth for it to drink from. Ten handfuls later he rubbed the stallions mane and neck and talked softly to it. She couldn't make out what he was saying. He was so tender towards the horse. As she watched him she realized that she had never seen him act so kindly towards anything or anyone as he was with this horse. Except for her.

At that thought his head turned up to hers and she worried that he had read her mind. He stalked to her and said "We need to sleep now. We'll be on our way again at first light." She let him lead her to the ground beneath the fallen tree. It was warmer here under the protection of the branches and the cloak. When he saw that she was settled he turned to walk away.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"To sleep." He said, only turning halfway towards her, not meeting her eyes.

"Out there in the wind and snow?" She asked confused.

"Aye, that's the plan." He said, turning to her fully this time.

"No! Are you insane? You don't have on the proper clothes or even a cloak. You'll freeze to death." She said as she stood. He just looked at her, not knowing what to say. Why would he rather stay in the cold than share this little space with me? She thought to herself. And then it hit her. Little space. They'd have to practically cuddle to both fit under the cloak. He was being proper. She blushed at the realization.

It didn't really matter at this point did it now? She was on the run from her sadistic husband with a disgraced former Kingsguard. And it wasn't as if anyone would come upon them. She couldn't let him freeze out here, whether or not it was appropriate. She looked up into his eyes and straightened her spine. She had a feeling he would fight her on this and she didn't have the energy left to do so.

Changing her mind at the last second on how to word it she decided to go with kindness rather than demand he stay in the little shelter he had made. "Sandor, it's too cold. Please, won't you stay under here with me? It's the most reasonable thing to do." She asked, softening her eyes as she looked up into his deep brown ones.

Seven hells. The girl knew how to cut right though his will and cause him to bend to her wants. She was right though. It was too cold and he was underdressed. He probably wouln't survive the night out there in this fucking tunic and pants. He wished he still had his armor. He grunted and led her back into the shelter from the winter. After she had sat down she began to undo the cloak again. Fuck, she was stubborn as ever. "I thought I told you to leave that on, girl?"

She looked up at him with eyes so blue they made his breath catch. "I only intended to cover us both with it." She stated matter of factly. He was uncomfortable with the feelings those words stirred within him. He wanted to share that cloak with her, hold her close and keep her warm. But that was wrong. He wanted it for the wrong reasons. He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He sat down next to her, making sure not to touch her. She shook out the cloak in front of her and spread it over the both of them. She pulled it up to her chin and laid back against the branches behind the hanging cloak.

He looked back at her as she laid down. She looked so small. So innocent. So sweet. How could anybody hurt this girl? He leaned forward to close the cloak around them, creating a sort of tent. He had to admit, it was much warmer in here, under the protection of the tree. The wind blew all around them but did not penetrate their fabric walls. He laid back against the tree as she had done and placed his hands behind his head, creating a pillow. He closed his eyes, he suddenly felt very tired.

Just as he was about to drift off he heard her chirp quietly next to him. "Thank you." She whispered.

"It was nothing, Little Bird." He said, brushing off the compliment. It made him uncomfortable.

"It was everything." She said and when he looked down at her, she had already closed her eyes to go to sleep.

For fucks sake, now he was wide awake. He stared up into the black above him thinking about her words. 'It was everything' played over and over and over in his mind. The words gave him a chill. Or was it goosebumps? All he knew was that he had liked it when she said it. He didn't like that he had liked it. He didn't like that being near her caused him to feel things he couldn't explain. Years ago when he had first saw her in Winterfell she'd been a child. A child betrothed to his Prince. She had been naive and too trusting of the adults around her. He hadn't protected her then out of love or lust or anything but for the simple fact that she had needed him and no one else was there for her, but him.

When he set out for Winterfell to take her out of harms way he had still pictured the young girl she had been the last time he saw her. Naive, fragile, and all alone. When he found her hiding under those roots, the men around her about to drag her back into hell, a rage he hadn't felt in years boiled up inside him. He had cried out as he rode down the man on the ground that had the hounds by a leash. With one swift swing of his sword the man crumpled to the ground, instantly dead. He turned the horse around quickly and headed straight for the next man. The last two had put up a better fight than the first one had, but he was The Hound. They were no match for him.

He smiled as he remembered killing them. He had once told Sansa that killing was the sweetest thing. He hadn't been lying. Taking down a bad man was exhilarating. He didn't enjoy killing just anyone for the fun of it. He wasn't like his brother. But he'd be lying if he said that killing anyone who would harm him or who he cared about was not gratifying. When he had gotten to her she was so pale. He thought she might already be lost to him. But then he saw her breath cloud out from her mouth. He was so relieved to have gotten to her. To be able to save her.

The thing he hadn't expected, though, was the flash of desire that coursed though him as he changed her out of her wet cloak and into his own. Without the thick furs covering her he could make out her figure. She was no longer a girl, that was for certain. She had begun to take on her womanly form before he left, but now she was fully a woman. Soft and curved in all the right places. As he had held her against his chest in the saddle it took all his strength to not enjoy the feel of her in his arms. Now was not the time nor place for such feelings and desires.

Get yourself together Clegane! He demanded of himself as he lay there, screwing his eyes shut, praying for sleep. You're an old dog and she is a beautiful Lady. There is not point in having these silly thoughts. You're an ugly fuck and below her station. She will never love you. She will never want you the way you want her. Did he really want her that way? Did he really want her to want him? Or had it just been too long since he'd laid with a woman? She was very beautiful, that was a fact. But was that all that was causing these thoughts to cross his mind? Surely that was it. She was very pretty and he was horny. There was nothing deeper there. No need to go getting yourself worked up you old Hound, he thought. Maybe at the inn tomorrow, after she'd gone to sleep he would visit one of the whores he assumed would be there. That would clear his mind. And then he could focus on his plans to take her to the Wall without all these fucking distractions. With a satisfied grin on his face at his new idea he fell asleep.

He woke up just before dawn. It took him a brief moment to remember where he was. He felt something warm curled up at his side, burning his skin where it touched him. But not a painful burn like you'd get from fire, but a searing burn you get from the touch of another. That's when he remembered. She must have scooted next to him in her sleep. His cock twitched when he looked down at the top of her head, red hair falling out of her braid and spread out over his left side. He shot up immediately and stood, letting the cloak fall to the ground and stomped out of their makeshift tent. "Fuck" he muttered under his breath as he walked a ways towards a tree to relieve himself. He needed to get to that inn and find a whore. He didn't need this distraction. He couldn't focus on protecting her as he should if his thoughts always turned to her in this manner.

When he finished he turned to head back to the horse and get it saddled. He stopped in his tracks and saw her standing in front of the hanging cloak. The sky was just starting to lighten in the East and the gentle breeze blew her hair to the side. Her cheeks were flushed pink and the sight of her stole his breath away. Without his consent his feet started walking towards her until he stopped right in front of her. He reached forward and gently put a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers softly brush her cheek in the process. Her lips parted and she took in a shaky breath at his touch. He let his hand fall to his side and he stared into her clear blue eyes a moment longer before he stepped back a step and cleared his throat.

"Did you sleep well, Little Bird? You're looking better this morning. Warmer." He said. Her blush darkened and his chest tightened.

"I slept better than I have in years." She whispered, looking away. She was shy. He chuckled to himself. She may be fully grown now, but his Little Bird was the same in some ways.

"Good. It's time to get going. Get that cloak while I ready the horse." He ordered.

She turned and got to work untying the cloak from the branches. When he was done saddling the horse she walked up to him. She held the cloak out to him, open for him to put around his shoulders. He wrapped it around himself, though he didn't feel that he needed it. He was warm from the inside out already. He put her in the saddle and climbed up behind her. She was well rested so he left his left hand on his thigh, rather than wrap it around her. His right hand held the reigns but he was careful to not touch her. He didn't want a repeat of earlier. He didn't think she would like it very much if his erection was digging into her backside. He smiled as he kicked the horse to get it going. They rode away from their little camp just as the sun was peaking over the horizon.

 **A/N2: Song is Rest in Pieces- Saliva**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a so y'all know, I own nothing.**

Chapter 3

 _When it's just me and you_

 _Who knows what we could do_

 _If we can just make it through_

 _The toughest part of the day_

They caught a break their second day riding North. The weather was colder than ever, but the winds were silent and there was no snow falling. The sun shined on the the ground and it glistened like diamonds. Sandor was glad the day was nice, but didn't like how the lack of snow would leave them exposed. Visible to anyone who was searching for them. They rode all morning and only stopped once at an almost frozen stream to properly water the horse and stretch their legs.

Sansa walked along the bank, lost in her thoughts. She couldn't get the feel of his fingers on her cheek to go away. When she closed her eyes, all she saw were big brown eyes staring back into her soul. When she had been startled awake this morning by him jumping up from his reclined position and him storming out away from her, she had been hurt. She wondered what she had done wrong to cause him to so angrily leave her side. As she stood in front of their little camp she watched his back as he straightened himself and turned to face her. Her heart had slammed against her ribs, threatening to break free and fly away. When he walked towards her, her breath got caught in her chest. And then he had stopped right in front of her and she could feel his breath on her face. When he touched her to place a loose strand of hair behind her ear he left a mark upon her skin. One that no one could see, but she could still feel.

Before she could fully understand her reactions to his close proximity and his touch he had stepped back to give her space. Her mind cleared when she could no longer feel the heat radiating off his body. As that moment replayed in her mind over and over again she finally came to a conclusion. She was just so overwhelmed with happiness for finally being away from Ramsay that she was misconstruing gratitude for affection. She didn't have a crush on the man, she was just glad to be free. She smiled to herself as she came to that realization.

She looked over to where Sandor was as he tended to the horse. She watched him as he absentmindedly pet his neck while he drank. See? She told herself. Nothing. There's nothing there. No crush, no attachment, no feelings. It was all just a reaction to the change in circumstances in her life. She was glad for it too. The Hound was not the sort of man she needed to be having feelings for. He was no Lord, or Ser for that matter. He was harsh and violent and crass. He was fierce and loyal and tender. She stopped walking as those last descriptions crossed her mind. What was she doing? _Stop it Sansa!_ She scolded herself.

He looked up at her and when their eyes met she could have sworn the world stood still. Hanging in that moment, just the two of them, everything else fell away. He stood there looking at her. The sun was in her eyes so she couldn't quite make out his eyes but she could feel them as they roamed down her body slowly, and back up. He couldn't have made out much, for she was still wearing his cloak and it was rather large on her. Time stopped as they gazed at each other, each feeling the same confusing desire grow from deep within their bellies.

Then all at once he broke the trance as his head snapped towards the path they had been riding on. She followed his look and saw three men riding towards them. She could see the flayed man sigil on their armor. Sansa looked back to Sandor, scared and unable to move. As he unsheathed his sword from his belt he reached for something he had behind him and tossed it at her feet. It's shinny surface glared in the sunlight and she reached down to pick it up. It was a dagger. She held on to it firmly in her right hand and hid it in the folds of her skirts.

The men rode up to them and stopped without dismounting. "Give us the girl and we will let you go with your life." The biggest one said. Sansa had remembered him from Winterfell. He was one of the few who helped Ramsay when he wanted to skin someone alive. She knew he enjoyed it almost as much as her husband did. Her grip on the dagger tightened.

"I don't think I'll be doing that. The girl stays with me." Sandor responded cooly. The calm before the storm.

"Wrong answer." The blonde one on the left answered and then they all three laughed.

As if they had choreographed it before, they all jumped down from their horses at the same time and drew their swords. She watched, horrified, as the two that had spoken lunged forward. The bigger one's sword came down from up high and crashed into Sandor's sword. He deflected the hit easily enough. As he recovered the blonde one stabbed his sword forward trying to poke Sandor like a skewer. He turned to his side quicker than she thought he could move. As the man fell forward having missed his mark, Sandor stabbed his sword right into the middle of his spine. He didn't even have a chance to scream out in pain. He died instantly.

Stunned, watching him fight off the larger man, she didn't even notice that the third man and slipped away from the fight and had snuck up on her left side. "Hello there you pretty girl." Sansa screamed and jumped at the sound of his voice in her ear. Her attempts to escape were pointless. He already had a hold of her around her waist. He pinned her arms down to her side as he held on to her tightly. She looked into his wild blue eyes and could smell the wine strong on his breath. She cringed when he smiled and revealed a mouth full of missing teeth. "Do you think Lord Bolton would mind it if I took you for a little ride before I brought you back to him?" Sansa gasped, the fear plain on her face. He smiled at her and reached one hand up to fondle her breast though her gown. "Ahh, now I know why the Lord loves to play with you. You're filled out nicely." He wagged his eyebrows at her and she struggled once again to get away from the frightening man.

He laughed at her. "Do you think you can get away from me so easily?" She looked to Sandor, wanting his help. No, needing his help. But he was still engaged in his own fight with the man. He wasn't beating him as easily as he usually did. She feared for his life. Just as she was about to call out to him she was slammed into the ground. The air was knocked out of her lungs and her head had hit the ground hard enough to leave her dazed. Her skirts were already being pushed up her legs before she was able to breathe again and her vision cleared. She screamed and kicked the man and he reached forward and slapped her so hard across the face that it split open her cheek. She felt the blood run down her face and get lost in the snow below her.

She panicked as she realized how close she was to being raped, again. Her heart beat wildly and her breathing became erratic. She was back in Winterfell. Back in her parent's old chambers and Ramsay was stripping her and beating her. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could and used every ounce of strength she could siphon from within and kicked and clawed at her attacker. She thrashed and bucked under him as he tried to pry her legs apart. As she fought him with all she had she remembered the dagger that Sandor had thrown to her. She must have dropped it during the struggle. She blindly searched for it around her and cried out in joy when her fingers found the hilt underneath her skirts.

While she was searching for the dagger she hadn't paying as close attention to her struggle and the man now had her skirts up around her waist and he was low between her legs, fumbling with his pants as he tried to free himself. She stopped moving all together and he looked up to her face in surprise. She smiled at him and plunged the dagger deep into his stomach. "You bitch!" He yelled at her and she twisted the dagger that was still buried inside him. He screamed out in agony and fell on top of her.

She laid there panting with him on top of her. She could feel the blood running down her stomach. A satisfied grin spread on her face at the sensation. He was her first kill. She liked it. Liked the way it felt to rid the world of one bad man. Sandor ran up to her and fell to his knees at her side. He pushed the dead man off of her pulled her skirt down to a more appropriate level. She laid there, unmoving, while he fussed over her. She watched his face as he inspected her body, looking for any signs of harm. "It's all his." She said.

"What?" He looked at her perplexed.

"The blood. It's all his." She smiled up at him.

"Not all of it." He said as he gingerly touched the skin on her cheek near the cut. She sucked in air at the pain his touch caused. "That's going to be one nasty bruise, but the cut is shallow. It doesn't need to be stitched." He assessed.

There was blood splattered all over his face and down his chest. "Are you hurt?" She asked, suddenly aware that he may have been injured.

"It's all his. Slitting a throat can be quite messy." He said, slight laughter in his tone. "Are you ok? Did he-" he asked, not wanting to finish the sentence. She knew what he meant.

"No, he didn't. He got very close, but I killed him. I killed him Sandor. I stabbed him with the dagger you tossed me and he bled to death right on top of me." She said staring wide eyed into his eyes.

He assumed that she was about to panic and he helped her into a sitting position and he brought her head to his chest and hugged her close. "Don't worry Little Bird. It will all be ok. You did what you had to. If not him, then it would have been you lying in the snow dead." He said trying to comfort her.

She pulled away a bit and looked up into his eyes. "I'm not upset Sandor. I liked it. I enjoyed killing him." He stared down at her in disbelief. She reached up and wiped some of the blood off of the scarred side of his face with her fingers. He tensed under her touch. The skin was softer than she was expecting. She didn't let her touch linger. She didn't know how he would take to having her touch him so intimately. "We should rinse off a bit before we continue. I don't know if the inn keeper will want to rent us a room if we're covered in blood.

He hadn't moved an inch since she had touched him. No one had ever touched his face. Not _that_ side. She hadn't been scared or disgusted. She had been gentle and unafraid. Unbothered by the feel of his ruined skin under her fingertips. She was talking and he couldn't hear a word she was saying. His thoughts drowned out all sound. His heart beat fast in is chest.

He had been so scared, so afraid that third man had harmed her. He hadn't had but a second to look towards her and he had seen her flat on her back with her skirts around her waist and the fucker was trying hard to pull his pants down. He wanted to run over to her and cut the mans cock off and shove it down his own throat while he bled out. But he couldn't get to her until he had killed the large man. He had recognized Sandor and he could not live. No one knew where he was and he didn't want anyone looking for him. Not that it was easy for him to hide with half his face burned off. When he had finally finished off the Bolton bitch he thought he was too late to save his Little Bird. He saw the man laying on top of her in between her legs and he was sure that he was raping her.

She was smiling when he got to her. He recognized that smile. He'd worn it himself countless times in his life. But he'd been too worried she'd been injured to dwell on it. As he stared down at her he recognized his name on her lips, she was repeating it. Then, finally, he heard her. "Sandor?! Can you hear me?" Her voice was alarmed.

He nodded at her "Yes, I hear you."

"Did you hear what I said?" She asked him.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't." He said. She repeated herself about rinsing off. "Yes, we should wash the blood out a bit, but we need to hurry. There could be more men coming and we'll be lucky to reach the inn by nightfall at this rate." He said standing up and reaching his hand out to help her up. She took his hand and let him help her. He held onto her hand a moment longer than necessary and when she looked down at their joint hands he let go and walked to the stream. "Make sure you put some snow on that cheek. It'll help with the swelling." He said as they walked to the stream.

He got down on his knees at the water's edge and cupped his hands together and splashed the freezing water on his face, rubbing it to wash off the blood. She came to kneel next to him and began washing herself off. "I won't be able to get it all out until tonight. Most of it is under my dress and I'm not taking a swim in that water. One ice bath was enough to last me for a long while." She said.

"We'll make sure you get a bath at the inn." He said as he washed his arms, not looking at her.

She grabbed the hem of his cloak that she still wore and dipped it in the water. She walked up to him and held the wet end of the cloak up to his face but waited for his permission before she used the fabric to clean off the blood he had missed. He nodded once and she reached up, cupping his jaw in her free hand and cleaned his face with the other. His eyes watched her closely as she worked. She bit down on her bottom lip as she used her hand to move his face from side to side gently to be certain there was no more blood on him.

When she had finished she smiled and went to let go of his face. His hand reached up and held her hand to his cheek and he looked deep into her eyes. He hadn't felt the tender touch of a woman in ages and he wasn't ready for the feeling to stop. Her fingers were slim and cold on his skin. Ever so slightly she let her hand form to his face as if it were melting into his skin, becoming part of him. After another moment he dropped his hand and she let hers fall away too. He stood up and again helped her up. She brushed off her dress and followed him towards the carnage they had created with a hand full of snow pressed to her cheek.

Sandor searched the men, took their gold, and two of their cloaks. He looked at the boots the larger man had been wearing. They looked about his size and more appropriate for the weather. He sat down and took one of his boots off and then one off the dead man. As he held the shoe to the bottom of his foot he smiled when he saw that it was a perfect match. He switched boots and stood up, walking to the horse they had been riding. It had been scared off during the fight but had made it's way back to him. Sandor reached up and scratched the animal between the eyes and whispered "Good boy, I'm glad you came back."

Sansa walked up to him. She had braided her hair again. No longer were there whisps of hair framing her face. She smiled up at him and said "I'm ready." He helped her into the saddle and hoped up behind her. "Let's try this again, shall we." He said, attempting at a joke. She laughed out loud, throwing her head back against his chest as she did so. Sandor gulped audibly at what the sight did to him physically.

"We're a good team, aren't we Sandor?" She asked him, looking over her shoulder at him.

He looked back down at her briefly before focusing on the path ahead. "Aye, Little Bird, that we are."

As he kicked the horse into a gallop he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to his chest. He reached in front of her and held on to the saddle horn with his hand that held the reigns and let his left hand splay out across her stomach. He told himself it was to keep her from falling. He needed to hold onto her so she wouldn't slip. And he told himself that when she leaned into his chest, molding herself to him it was just the motion of the gallop that caused it. They didn't say another word as the horse sped across the frozen terrain.

Just as the sun was setting they spotted the inn a mile ahead. "There it is." He said. She nodded in response. He pulled the horse to a stop and she turned to him.

"Is everything ok?" She asked.

"Yes, but you need to put your hood up and hide your hair. It'll give you away." Sandor said. She did as she was told. Good Little Bird. "When we get there we can't raise any suspicion. Everyone is probably looking for you by now." She nodded and he continued. "I will do all the talking, do you trust me?" He asked.

Without hesitation she replied "Yes." He smiled down at her.

"Good." And he kicked the horse and headed towards the inn.

 **A/N2: Song is Everything Changes by Staind**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is basically all in Sandor's POV. There is a lot of cussing, kinda excessive at one point, but it's needed to really get the point across so... Yeah.**

Chapter 4

 _Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain_

 _Once or twice was enough, and it was all in vain_

 _Time starts to pass, and before you know it, you're frozen_

They slowed to a trot as they neared the inn. The sun had set already and it was dark as they came to a stop at the small stable next to the main building. An old man with a limp walked up to their horse and grabbed the reins, holding the stallion steady while they dismounted. Sandor passed the elderly gentleman a few coins and said "He hasn't eaten in 2 days, make sure he's well taken care of."

The old man looked down at the coins in his hand, probably not having had that much money in his possession in years. He smiled back up at Sandor and said, "Yes, my Lord. He'll be fed and watered to his hearts content." And walked the horse under the cover of the stable.

Sandor looked down at Sansa and whispered close to her, "Remember, I will do the talking. Follow my lead." He said. She nodded her head in agreement.

They walked through the door to the inn and found it to be of good size. There were several tables around the perimeter of the open bottom floor and a small space left open in the middle. There were several men and a handful of women scattered though out the room. They were all drinking and talking and having a grand time. Sandor reached down and grabbed Sansa's hand as soon as the door closed behind them. She looked up at him, question in her eyes. He leaned down and whispered in her ear "It'll be easier to protect you if they think you're my wife." He said looking into her eyes. He saw something that looked like excitement pass through them before she nodded her head at him and smiled. He stood straight and led her to the counter in the corner to their left.

"How may I help you two?" The heavyset man with a gray and white beard asked them as they stopped in front of him on the other side of the counter.

"We'd like a room and food." Sandor said in his deep, gravely voice.

"You're in luck, we have one room left for you and your beautiful wife." He said kindly, in a most respectful manner. As he was speaking a woman with brown, frizzy hair twisted up into a bun on the top of her head came to stand next to him and smiled at Sandor and Sansa.

"What an attractive couple you two make." She beamed, looking between the two of them. Sandor glanced down at his Little Bird and noticed her cheeks were a lovely shade of red. He smiled, but swallowed hard as he lets his eyes travel south to the neckline of her dress, wondering just how far down that blush went. She kept her eyes on the innkeeper and his wife, unaware of his gaze.

He looked back to the woman and asked "Could you wash our clothes? They've gotten... Dirty, in our travels." The woman looked over their bodies, noticing for the first time all the blood. "I can pay you for the trouble, and your discretion." He said a little more quietly. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled and nodded.

"Yes, of course. I would be glad to." He could tell by the looks of the man and woman's clothes that they didn't have much coin. "I can get you each something to wear in the night to keep you warm until they are clean." She offered.

"Ok." He agreed. "She'd like a bath too." He said jerking his head towards Sansa as he pulled out one of the small pouches of coins he had from around his belt. He dropped the entire bag on the counter and pushed it towards the man. He looked up at him in disbelief and back down at the small pouch. This was probably more than they made in a half years time, Sansa thought to herself.

"Come, follow me. I'll show you to your room." The wife said flustered.

Still holding her hand, he walked with Sansa to the stairs. He noticed as every man in the room watched her as she walked beside him. Their eyes greedily looking over her body and face. They were getting drunk, he could tell. He would have to keep his Little Bird caged tonight. He glared at some of the men who looked his way and they quickly adverted their eyes back to their cups of ale and awkward conversation. He released her grip to let her walk ahead of him once they reached the stairs. The older woman lead them to a door at the beginning of the hall on the left and used the key to open it. She let Sansa walk in before her and handed Sandor the key as he followed her in. "I'll be back shortly with the bath water and your spare clothes. Just leave your soiled ones outside the door and I'll begin washing them." She said and closed the door behind her as she left.

Immediately the air in the room grew thick. Sansa turned around to face him, standing by the bed, him by the door. He took in the room, it was rather large. There was a big bed in the corner, a basin for bathing in front of the hearth, and a room divider in the corner, for changing behind. There was a chair next to him against the wall by the door.

"This is nice." Sansa said, breaking the silence. "Nicer than I was expecting."

"I know you're used to better places than this." He said apologetically.

"Better isn't always what it seems." She said sadly.

"No, I suppose it isn't." He said, remembering everything the girl had been through.

There was a knock at the door and Sandor turned to answer it. There were two young lads holding two pails each of steaming water for Sansa's bath. He stepped aside and let them in. They walked to the basin and poured the water in carefully. "We'll be back with more in a moment, Ser." They said. Sandor grunted.

"I'll wait here until they're done and then I'll give you some privacy." He said.

Sansa removed the cloak she was wearing and set it on the chair near the door. As she walked back towards the basin she began to undo her braid. He stood there, frozen in his place as he watched her unravel her fiery strands. Her back was to him and when she was done she shook out her hair, loose waves cascading down her back. The fire in the hearth gave her hair a glow that looked like embers burning at the base of a large fire. He took a step forward wanting to reach out and run his fingers through the silky tresses. At that moment the boys returned with the last pails of water. He cleared his throat and stepped aside, letting them pass towards the tub.

Once they had emptied their pails they walked back out the door, closing it behind them. He went to it and locked it, just to be safe. When he turned back around she was looking at him, a vision of beauty. Her hair fell over her shoulders and he could make out the soft curves of her body as she stood there in a dress that seemed to be made specifically to her measurements. The bruise he had suspected would form on her cheek had made its appearance. It wasn't as big as he thought it would have been, though. He supposed the snow she'd put on it and the cold air blowing on it during their ride helped keep it minimized.

"Thank you, Sandor. Truly, I mean it. You're doing so much for me and I am doing nothing in return to deserve your kindness." She said.

"You don't need to do anything to deserve kindness, Little Bird. You should be given it freely by everyone. It's what you deserve. I don't mind giving it to you and I don't expect anything in return."

"Why did you come to Winterfell?" She finally had the courage to ask him.

"I came for you." He said quickly, without thought, and immediately looked away from her eyes embarrassed for being so truthful. She didn't say anything and just kept staring, so he continued. "I heard you were married off to Bolton's bastard. I've heard enough about him to know that you weren't safe there. I was headed to the Wall anyway and thought I might as well stop and get you on my way up." He said, brushing off the gesture so it didn't appear to mean anything of significance but she knew. Deep down she knew he would try to save her whenever possible.

"You came to save me?" She asked, astounded he would even bother to care after all these years. He looked incredibly uneasy and she smiled to herself. He was acting shy, very un-Hound like. He had never been shy with her in Kings Landing. She was always the one looking like a scared little lamb. She didn't mind the roles being reversed for once.

"I'm not one of your fairytale knights girl, so don't go getting any ideas." He said gruffly. "But a girl like you needs protecting and it seems no one else is up for the job." He looked around the room as she walked up to him and looked up at his face. Finally, he looked back down at her. His heart was stuck in his throat. The way she made him feel when she was looking at him that way scared him more than any man with a sword ever could or had.

She thought for a moment then said, "Are you saying you want to be my sworn shield, Ser?"

"I'm no Ser, I'm a dog. Or did you forget that." He said snarling at her.

She reached out and touched his arm, ignoring the harshness in his tone. "You are not a dog, and you are not a knight, but will you still protect me?" She asked.

"Aye, I'll protect you. I'll even be your shield if that's what you'd like." He said softer, his eyes staring straight into hers. Gods! Having her this close to him, alone in a locked room tested his strength more than she would ever know. It took everything in him to not just grab her and kiss her. He couldn't think straight. Her scent filled his nose and he grew intoxicated by it.

She stepped back and said, "That is what I would like."

At her words he kneeled before her, taking his sword out of his belt and placing it before her on the ground, and said "I will shield your back and keep your council and give my life for you if need be. I swear it by the old Gods and the New."

She looked down at him kneeling before her and answered him, "And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old Gods and the New." Sandor stood, bringing his sword up with him. He looked into her eyes and she looked truly happy. He didn't think there was a thing in this world more beautiful than seeing her happy.

Sansa felt a sense of relief that no other memory could compare to. Now she didn't have to worry about whether or not he would be there to protect her in the future. He was now sworn to her and thus will always be by her side. Her head felt light with the thought of him with her for the rest of his days. She wanted to go to him, to hug him, to kiss him. She wanted to have his arms wrap tight around her and whisper sweet words in her ear.

She didn't know what to say. They stood there, staring at each other for several moments until finally he said "You should bathe while the water is still warm." She nodded at him and turned to walk towards the basin. "I will go down and get myself some supper. We can get you some after your bath." And without another word he turned and walked out the door, closing and locking it behind himself.

She took a deep breath in and slowly began to undress. Her dress was covered with blood. She smiled as she remembered the feel of her dagger sliding easily into the mans middle. It was like a knife through butter. As she pictured it, his face took a different form. Instead of the soldier on top of her it was Ramsay. She imagined what his face would look like if she had plunged a blade deep inside him. She pictured what he would look like as his face twisted from a wicked grin into a look of horror as he realized his fate.

She put her dress on top of the chair with her cloak and walked back to the basin, stepping into the still steaming water and began to wash away all the blood and memories of the past months. She would never go back there again.

...

Sandor walked down the stairs more frustrated than he could ever remember being in his life. The woman upstairs would be the death of him. If not by protecting her, then by loving her. Fuck! He didn't love the girl. He was just still too fucking horny. Becoming her sworn shield had been a great idea. He was glad she had suggested it. Wished he'd thought of it himself. Now no one could ever tell him he had no right to be by her side. He could protect her once they reached her brother and even he couldn't keep him from her. He didn't trust anyone but himself to keep the girl safe anyway. He chose to ignore the reasons why he felt the need to protect her so fiercely. They were tangled up with the feelings for her he also wanted to ignore. Taking his frustrations out on a whore would do him a whole lot of good. He could fuck someone and forget everything on his mind. He could forget her, if only for a few moments.

He sat down at a table closest to the stairs where he was facing the door. Not long after he'd taken his seat a serving wench walked up and set a bone cup in front of him and filled it with ale. He held up a finger to her, wanting her wait before she left. He drank the ale in one long drink and slammed the mug down on the table and gestured with his hand for her to fill it again. Once she had he pulled the drink in front of him and looked down at it, dismissing her. "I'll be back with your supper." She told him before she walked away. He didn't respond. He was wound too tightly.

He put his left elbow on the table and placed his forehead in his hand, closing his eyes. He concentrated on slowing his breathing and clearing his thoughts. Not long after he heard someone walk to the table. He assumed it was the wench and didn't look up. "Hey big fellow, looking for some company?" A voice purred at him. He looked up into the dull hazel eyes of a woman. They were the wrong color. He sighed, you don't have to look her in the eyes when you're fucking her from behind do you? He asked himself.

She stepped closer to him and leaned on the table, giving him an eyeful of her large breasts as they spilled over the top of her low cut bodice. He looked down at them wanting to feel something, anything resembling desire. He felt nothing. Her skin was too dark and her tits too large. When had cared about their size before? He took a long drink of his ale and looked back at her face. She wasn't ugly. She was kind of pretty actually. But she looked all wrong. Her hair was too curly and too short. It wasn't the perfect shade of auburn, but black. Her hips were wide and her waist was slim, but she was wasn't tall enough. Her curves too obvious. Not the subtle curves of the woman upstairs. Who was currently naked and soaking wet at this very moment.

Sandor growled and slammed his mug down after taking another long drink. Fuck it all. Fuck it all straight to the deepest of the Seven Hells. Fuck his cock that didn't seem to want to work anymore. Fuck his cunt brother for ruining his face and making him too ugly for a beautiful woman like Sansa to ever love. Fuck the way he felt about her. And fuck all the rules and damned propriety that kept him from storming up those stairs right now and dragging her out of that fucking bath and fucking her on the ground until she screamed out his name in pleasure over and fucking over.

"Leave me the fuck alone." He said to the whore who looked at him scared and scurried off as fast as she could. He ran his hands down his face and emptied his cup. Just then the kitchen wench walked up with his chicken and a pitcher of ale. She set both down on the table and walked away without another word. Good. He was in a shit mood and didn't have the patience for plesantries.

He ate in angry silence, polishing off the full pitcher that was left for him at the table. He wasn't drunk but he was pretty damn buzzed. The chicken was good, but small. It was winter though, it's not like it had enough food to get nice and fat like the ones in Kings Landing he used to eat. As he sucked the last bit of meat off a drumstick he figured it was time he head upstairs and check on his 'wife'. He snorted at the thought of her being his wife. What would the little Lady do with her days? Did she even know how to do anything? He would work all day and she'd do what? Sit there and be pretty? Well, she'd do a fine job at that, but that wouldn't bring home coin enough to support them. He wasn't a rich Lord. Hell, he wasn't even a knight who was doing alright for himself. Every coin he had on him he had stolen. Sandor had nothing to offer a woman. Especially not her. She was ok with the needle. Better than ok, actually. He remembered once in Kings Landing one of the ladies had complimented her dress and she had said that she made it herself. He could still picture it. It had been a deep green with gold stitching. The colors made her blue eyes and red hair stand out. She had been stunning in it. But she couldn't be a seamstress or dressmaker. She was a Lady for fucks sake! He didn't understand why he couldn't shake the thoughts of her being his out of his mind. It was never going to happen. Ever! Why did he continue to torture himself? He was good at keeping his emotions out of his own way. Or he had been, at least. What was it about the girl that he couldn't move past? Her looks? There was more to her than just a pretty face though. She was strong. Stronger than any woman he had ever met. She had wit and knew when to hold her tongue when the moment called for it. Too many women didn't posses that talent. They ran at the mouth whether or not they should be and it often got them beat. Sansa had always said the right things, or nothing at all, whichever the moment called for. That hadn't stopped her from getting beat though. Beat and later on raped.

He saw red at that thought. Just the mere thought of that sick prick forcing himself on her made his blood boil. He wanted to ride back south to Winterfell and gut the boy this very moment. But he couldn't. He couldn't bring her anywhere near him. He wouldn't risk her safety like that. And now it was his sworn duty to protect her from such risks. He was her only protector. Her only guard. Her only hero.

Fuck! Here I go again. Why are you torturing yourself Clegane? He pushed back from the table and rested his hand on its surface to steady himself before he headed upstairs. He took the stairs two at a time and paused outside the door, listening to see if he could hear anything. He heard nothing. He put the key in the hole and unlocked the door.

He opened it quickly and turned to close the door behind him. He stuck the key on the now empty chair by the door and turned back towards the room. She was sitting on the ground in front of the fire, finger-combing her long hair. He looked down towards his groin and internally cursed it. Now it was working just fine? Bloody hells. Why couldn't have that whore aroused him? She had literally been asking for it, and all his Little Bird was doing was playing with her damn hair with her back to him. He took a deep breath and walked a few steps into the room and then she spoke.

"The bath was lovely. Thank you for arranging that for me." She said as she stood and turned to him. She was in a cream colored tunic that was damn near see through with the fire lighting her from behind. Shit. He turned away from her. This was getting out of hand. He was her fucking sworn shield now. He needed to rein himself in. He looked back to her face and nodded. "Yours is ready now." She said as she walked towards the bed. He noticed a bowl of stew on the table next to it waiting to be eaten.

"What do you mean mine is ready?" He asked confused.

"Your bath, it's ready. You need to clean yourself and leave your clothes outside the door to be cleaned." She answered.

He just stood there and stared at her. He wasn't accustomed to having someone tend to his needs. At least not someone he wasn't paying to do so. "Well, are you going to get in while the water is still warm? I had the boys bring in fresh water or you." She continued as she sat back on the bed and picked up the bowl of stew and took a bite of meat.

"Are you going to just sit there and watch me, Little Bird?" He asked, flirting with her. The hells?! Why was he flirting with her. He turned and walked towards the water to look at it instead of waiting for her answer. Sure enough, there was steam rising from the clear water. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a proper bath, hot water and all. He smiled as he imagined all the dirt and grime and blood washing off his hard and scarred body.

As he was staring at the water she had set her bowl down and walked to the corner of the room where the divider was. She grabbed one side of it and began dragging it towards the bath. She positioned it between the basin and the bed, effectively blocking them from each other's view. "There." She said, satisfied with herself. "Now you have some privacy, princess." She teased.

As she turned to walk away he grabbed her upper arm and spun her around to face him, her chest pressed up against his. He looked down into her eyes and he saw the panic there in her gaze. That sobered him up quicker than a cold swim in the river could have. He didn't want to scare her. He fought a battle in his mind. One side wanted to drag her down into the bath with him and get lost inside her all night long and the other side wanted her to feel safe and protected at all times and he could tell that right now she felt neither. He released her and said "Go eat your dinner, girl." And turned to walk behind the divider and begin to undress.

He heard her mumble under her breath as she walked away "I'm not a girl anymore." His head turned up at her words, though she didn't see because he was now hidden. No Little Bird, you most definitely aren't a girl anymore.

 **A/N2: Song is Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is a bit shorter than usually, but it was a good stopping point. My work weekend was very busy. Thank y'all for y'all's patience with the update.**

Chapter 5

 _Restless tonight_

 _Cause I wasted the light_

 _Between both these times_

 _I drew a really thin line_

 _It's nothing I planned_

 _And not that I can_

 _But you should be mine_

 _Across that line_

As Sandor sank down into the warm bath he couldn't remember the last time that he'd had one. The water was still steaming and he could feel his muscles relaxing the moment he was submerged. His large frame couldn't fit too far into the basin, the water only reaching his mid torso. He leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling for a bit. He was close to dozing off when he heard her bowl clank against the wood of the table beside the bed. He had forgotten that she was in the room with him. He turned his head to look towards the sound, but couldn't see anything through the divider. He turned his head back to where it had been and closed his eyes again, remembering the fear he had seen there only minutes earlier. He sighed heavily as he realized that she was still afraid of him. She didn't have any feelings for him like he did for her. Whenever he got a silly notion in his head that she cared or if he was tempted to make a move, he would remember that look in her eyes. Picture the panic in the bright blue pools staring up into his scarred face. That would keep him to himself.

She walked back to the bed in a daze. He had surprised her when he had roughly pulled her to him. She wasn't scared of him, but rather scared of herself. She had been scared by how quickly her body had responded to being in such close proximity to hers. She had been pressed up against him, her chest to his. The tunic she was wearing was very thin and her nipples had hardened at the friction his actions created. She had wanted more. She saw the hunger in his eyes. She fully expected him to kiss her right then and there. She waited for it, needed it. And then, all too soon, he had released her. He called her girl. She said to herself as she walked away "I'm not a girl anymore."

Why did he call her that? Could he not see her? Could he not see how she had grown? And not just in hieght. She had filled out in all the places men desired a woman to be. But there was more than just her appearance that made her a woman. Life had jaded her, taken it's toll. She had experienced things in her short life that most grown men never had. No, she wasn't a girl. Not even close. It upset her that he didn't see her for the woman she now was. He turned away from her every time they had had a moment. Anytime they stared into each other's eyes she could tell he was feeling what she was. Fighting the same battle within himself. She could feel it. But he kept his distance. He was respectable towards her. She had to give him credit for that. Any other man would have ravished her the first time they had a chance. Not Sandor. He had never taken anything from her. Not in Kings Landing and not now. As much as he tried to deny and fight it, he was a kind man. A gentle man. He would never expect anything from her or force her to do anything. She realized at that moment that if anything was ever to happen between them, she would have to initiate it. The thought of touching him first, kissing him first, didn't bother her. The thing that scared her was rejection. If he turned her away, she didn't think she would recover. Didn't think her heart could handle the pain and disappointment. The thought of him not returning her feelings are the one thing that kept her from making any advances on him.

When she saw his clothes being tossed on the ground from behind the divider she couldn't move. She sat there on the bed and stared as each garment was discarded. Just a few feet in front of her was a naked man. She had seen men naked before, walking around Kings Landing poor and begging, or dead with battle wounds having claimed their lives. She had seen Ramsay naked more times than she wished to count. But none of those men, especially not her husband, had given her the feelings she was feeling at this very moment.

Want. That was the only word that came to mind. She wanted him. She wanted him in ways she had never known. Ways her rapist never made her feel. She wanted him to give her things, show her things no other could. Ever would. She heard him step into the water and heard it splash over the edge, soaking the floor below. The sound brought her out of her daydream and she looked down at the bowl in her lap. She stared for a moment and then began to eat again. Now was not the time.

She tried her hardest to focus on the stew. It was pretty good considering. The meat tender, the vegetables somewhat fresh. It was no longer warm but it was not yet cold. She hadn't eaten in two days. As she ate she realized how hungry she had been. She finished every bite in record time. She stopped herself before she licked the bowl. That wasn't very ladylike. She set the empty bowl down on the table next to the bed and it made more noise than she had intended it to. She turned her head towards where Sandor was and waited. She heard the water slosh as he moved, but she couldn't see him and didn't know where he was looking.

She took a deep breath and laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. The bath had calmed her nerves and relaxed her body, but now that he was here in the room with her she was tense again. She couldn't relax and that frustrated her. He was just a man. Just a grouchy, smelly, crude man. He was nothing special. Nothing special at all. Sure he had ridden to Winterfell just to save her. Sure he seemed to be the only one who ever protected her, but that meant nothing. He had sworn to her mere hours ago to be her shield. He would always be there to protect her now. He would never leave her side. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep. She failed miserably.

As the water cooled Sandor figured he should wash up and get out. He grabbed the soap that was on the ground next to the basin. As he lathered and scrubbed he thought about the girl on the bed a few feet away. As his hands worked over his body he imagined what it would feel like if it were her hands cleaning him, running over the muscles of his chest and arms and stomach. He grew hard at the thought. He reached under the water and allowed himself a few strokes of his cock before he stopped, remembering where he was, where she was. Fucking hells! He threw the soap in the water and rinsed himself off.

He stood and stepped out, drying himself with the cloth set out for him. The water pooled at his feet and he didn't care. The effects of the alcohol had worn off and he was too sober. Or maybe just sober enough. Without the haze of ale to cloud his judgement he could think straight. He took the tunic and pants that were draped for him over the divider and put them on hastily. He reached down and gathered his soiled clothes and walked to the door to set them outside. He locked the door after he had closed it and turned to face the bed.

She was laying there on her back, her eyes closed. He could tell by her breathing that she was not asleep. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He looked around the room and eyed the rug on the ground near the bed. Well, that was a better place to sleep than the freezing ground had been. He walked over to the bed and she opened her eyes. "Are you going to use both of those?" He asked, gesturing towards the pillows. She lifted her head and looked back at them flustered.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, take this one." She said grabbing the one she had been laying on. She scrambled off the bed and began to take the top cover off.

"What are you doing?" He asked, confused as to why she was unmaking the bed.

"Getting this cover off for you." She said as she shook the blanket free from around the bed.

"I don't need a blanket girl." He said, uncomfortable with her thoughtfulness.

She looked back at him and marched right up to him and stared daggers into his eyes and said slowly but angrily "I am NOT a girl!" Before he could react she pushed him with both hands on his chest. He stumbled back a few steps, having been caught off guard.

Sandor walked right back up to her and got in her face "You better watch yourself, girl." He said the last word with a sneer, trying to provoke her. He had succeeded.

"Why do you keep calling me that? Don't you know what I've been through? The things that have been done to me? I am not a girl. Not anymore. I'm broken and scarred and damaged." She said as angry tears filled her eyes.

"What do you know about scars, girl? You haven't been in a battle. You haven't been beaten and stabbed and hurt in ways you can't fathom men do to each other." He said back at her, just as angry. His rage was boiling inside him. What did she want from him?

"Haven't I?" She said and turned and curled up on the bed as she began to sob.

Fucking hells. He had forgotten. In all his anger with himself for not being able to control his emotions around her he had completely forgotten everything. He remembered now. He could see the cunt Trant hurting her, beating her, stripping her, humiliating her. He seethed with hatred for that particular asshole. Ramsay. He had forgotten Ramsay. He had probably been worse. Shit. Now he felt horrible. He'd been upset and frustrated and had spoke before he thought.

He walked to her on the bed and sat down next to her. She didn't shy away from him, but she didn't come to him either. He didn't know what to do, how to comfort her. After a moment she didn't say anything but she moved her hair around to one side, over her shoulder. Still not looking at him she pushed the wide neck opening of the tunic off her shoulder a bit and exposed the top of her back.

Sandor looked to where she was intending him to look and stopped breathing. Though he could only see a small portion on her back, he could see enough. Too much. Her back was littered with whip lashes. They were in varying degrees of healing. Some completely healed and pink. Others were stabbed over, still fairly fresh. He saw red. He clenched the blankets beside him as tightly as he could as he tried to calm his breathing.

It didn't work. He stood up and started pacing the room. She turned and looked at him them. He was mad. That was obvious. Though mad was an understatement. She didn't think there was a word for how livid he was. She could see the murderous look in his eyes. He looked ready to kill anything and anyone that crossed his path. She hadn't intended to make him mad. She had only wanted to prove to him that she had scars too. That she wasn't a girl. That she had been through imaginable things just as he had.

She waited there on the bed, having covered her shoulder again. He didn't seem to be getting any calmer. If anything, he seemed to be getting madder. She didn't want to see what would happen if left to his own thoughts and rages. She stood and walked to him and stepped in front of him, halting him in his tracks. He looked worse than she had ever seen him. She hated herself for making him feel the way he felt right now. She reached out and placed a hand on his chest, over his heart. She could feel it pounding beneath her palm. He stiffened under her touch, his eyes growing black. She didn't back down.

After a moment, when she thought he may be a bit calmer, she reached out and put her other hand on his chest. She didn't once break his gaze, nor him hers. His breath hitched and his gaze turned from smoldering to unsteady. Sansa looked up into his eyes and reached up on her tiptoes and placed a small, chaste kiss on his lips. It was over quickly and after a brief brushing of her lips against his she settled back down on her feet, leaving her hands where they were.

Sandor was at a loss for words, breath, thoughts, everything. He stared down at his Little Bird confused. _She_ kissed _him_. She had kissed him, on his lips, with her lips. They had kissed. It was barely a kiss. Before he could even register what was happening it was over. It was nothing. It was everything. How could the slightest touch mean so much? What was it for? What had it meant for her? Was it to calm him? Did she want him as he wanted her? Why? Fucking hells, why?

As he stood there dumbfounded she backed away and grabbed the blanket she had taken off the bed and handed it to him. He took it in his hands but still hadn't moved from his place. She looked back up at him and smiled a small smile and turned to the bed. She lay down under the sheet, turned her back to him, and went to sleep.

He didn't know how long he stood there with the cover in his hands just staring at her back. Minutes, hours, years? He had no clue. Eventually he heard her light snoring and broke from his trance. He situated the pillow on the ground on the rug and walked to where his sword was and laid it on the ground near him. He got down on the ground and covered himself to sleep. The pillow smelled like her. The blanket too. Sandor fell asleep with thoughts of petal soft lips on his with her scent surrounding him.

 **A/N2: Song is One Thing by Finger Eleven**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey y'all, here's a fun little chapter. I hope y'all enjoy it.**

Chapter 6

 _Every time I take a breath_

 _And when I forget to breathe_

 _You're watching over me_

 _There you are_

As Sansa laid there waiting for sleep to come, her heart pounded in her chest. She had never been so brazen with a man before. She felt like she could conqueror the world in that moment. When she had gone to him she hadn't intended on kissing him. She had only wanted to try and calm him and explain that she hadn't meant to make him so upset. She only wanted to prove that she wasn't a girl anymore, as he kept suggesting. She should have been smarter with her actions. Should have realized that he would not take too kindly to the horrors inflicted upon her. He had said himself that the reason he had gone to Winterfell was to save her from Ramsay, and she went and showed him what her cruel husband's hands had done to her.

She refused to turn back to look at him. She couldn't trust herself if she looked into his dark eyes again. She had surprised herself when she had kissed him and she knew if she turned to him that she would probably regret it in the morning. She fell asleep before she heard him move.

Early in the morning, just before the sun was about to rise, Sandor was awoken by the sound of footsteps outside their door. He sat up and listened closely as he reached for his sword. He heard rustling outside the door as something was placed on the ground and then heeled boots that a woman would wear retreating down the stairs. He stood up and gently placed the pillow and cover back on the bed. He looked down at the pale face of his Little Bird, her hair spread out underneath her, and sighed. He supposed he could let the girl sleep a bit more as he dressed for their departure.

He stretched his back and walked towards the door to retrieve the whatever the innkeepers wife had just left for them. He opened the door and bent down to pick up their clothes. He set them on the chair just inside the door and just as he was about to close the door again he heard talking downstairs. Sandor leaned his head out a bit and listened. He could hear the clank of armor. He quickly closed the door and locked it.

Fuck! It was Ramsay's men. They were here. He looked around the room wildly trying to find a hiding place for Sansa. He ran up to her and grabbed her arm and started to drag her off the bed. She startled awake and before she could make a sound he put his hand over her mouth to silence her. "Shhh, his men are downstairs. Hide under the bed and whatever you do, do not make a sound. Do you understand?" She nodded, wide eyed and frightened. "Don't worry Little Bird, I'll protect you." He pushed the bed a few feet until it was flush against the wall and helped her slide under the bed. She scooted as far away from the side facing the door as possible, her body flat against the wall. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They went into the room on the right first. Sandor laid down on the bed and pretended to be asleep with his sword drawn and laying next to him on the bed.

A few moments later they were at his door, trying to open it. Sandor had locked it so they would have to break it down. He heard someone slam their body into the door. He jumped up, sword in front of him in a defensive position. He yelled through the door "What the fuck do you want?" The banging stopped and someone said "Open the door so we can talk face to face."

Sandor walked to the door and before he unlocked it he looked back to the bed, he couldn't see her at all. Good. He unlocked the door and was face to face with four men who were all at least a head shorter than him. He glared at them "You better have a good fucking reason for waking me."

The men recognized him immediately and their eyes betrayed them, showing their fear. The one in the middle spoke up first.

"What are you doing so far north, Hound?" He says.

"None of your fucking business." Sandor says and goes to close the door. The man stops his actions with his hand against the door.

"We're looking for Sansa Bolton. She has escaped and her husband is worried for her safety and wants her brought back home immediately." The banner man said.

"Sansa Bolton? She married that bastard twat?" Sandor said, feigning ignorance.

"He is no longer a Snow. He was legitimized by King Tommen. His name is Ramsay Bolton now." The little man said with a cocky air.

"Good for him." Sandor said. "The girl isn't here." He said, sneering at them. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'd like to get back to the sleep you little fucks interrupted." He started to close the door again, but was stopped. Again.

"You better move your fucking hand before you lose it, boy." Sandor warned.

"We'll just take a quick look ourselves, if you don't mind." He said, trying to walk past Sandor.

"I do fucking mind." Sandor almost yelled.

"All the same, we'd like to take a look." Sandor stepped back and held his sword out to his side, making sure it was visible, and let the man come in. When the other three started to walk through the door Sandor held his sword out blocking their entrance. "Just him is enough." He growled.

The soldier walked around the room, looking at everything too slowly. "Hurry the fuck up." What the fuck is he looking at? He watched him walk towards the washing basin and look at the now cold water still in there. He neared the bed and Sandor's heartbeat sped up. He lingered there, looking at the covers closely. There better not be a fucking red hair on the pillow. He had forgotten to check for that. Don't look down, he chanted in his head. Don't give away her hiding place. The man turned around and looked up at Sandor and smiled. "Satisfied?" He asked sarcastically.

"Yes." He said and walked towards the door. "She's not here, just an old dog." And they laughed as they walked down the hall towards the next room. Sandor locked the door and set the chair under the handle to reinforce it. He went back to sit on the bed, sword still in his hand.

"Don't say a word." He said quietly to Sansa. She was good and didn't answer.

They listened in silence as the men finished walking though each room. They heard startled screams from some of the patrons, but no one fought them. No one died. Sandor looked down as her hand reached out and stroked his bare ankle. She couldn't see him so he smiled at the gesture. He reached down and stroked her delicate fingers. He was distracted as he felt her fingers linger on his skin, branding him wherever they touched. He turned her small hand into his large one and squeezed it gently. Then he let go and her hand hid back under the bed. He was a lost cause. The girl under the bed had him wrapped around her little finger.

He had been distracted by her and no longer knew where the men were. He listened as they walked down the hall and back downstairs and out the door. Sandor stood and went to the window that was facing the front of the inn and watched the men ride off to the North. Fuck. Now they couldn't leave. They would need some distance between them and the soldiers before they could continue their journey to the Wall.

After some time when he was sure they had all departed and weren't turning back to the inn he walked back to the bed and said "Come now Little Bird, they're all gone. You're safe to come out." He reached down for her hand and helped her to her feet. Immediately she fell into his arms, hugging him tight to her. He didn't hesitate. He held her close and breathed her in, grateful she was safe in his arms. "I was so scared." She said into his chest. He held her tighter and whispered to her "I will keep you safe, Little Bird. Always."

At his words she looked up into his eyes, her bright blue pools of pure trust burning a hole straight into his soul. Sandor couldn't stand it any longer, he moved his hand up to carefully push a loose strand of hair out of her face. Her lips parted in anticipation and while cupping her cheek he brought his lips down to hers in a tender kiss. She sighed into it and slid her arms out from around his waist, up his chest slowly, and wrapped them around his neck. He took her actions as an invitation to deepen the kiss. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her in closer, tighter, as his tongue slid across her bottom lip, savoring the taste of her. He gently bit down on her lower lip, opening her mouth to him more. She met his tongue with her own and he got drunk on the taste and feel of her. One hand moved into her hair at the base of her neck and he tugged at it, holding her head in place. His desire for her boiled inside him and spilled over the top. He kissed her with a need he didn't fully comprehend. He needed her more than the air he breathed. She bunched her hands in his hair, mirroring his desire with her own want.

She moaned softly as he pulled her head back and kissed down her jaw and to her ear. She sucked in air quickly as he took her ear lobe into his mouth and bit and sucked on it. He traced the lines and curves of her ear with his tongue and he felt her tremble in his arms. He grew hard against her as she clung to him. His mouth worked it's way down her neck, kissing, nibbling, and possessing ever inch of her neck on its journey south.

"Sandor." She breathed as he reached her collar bone. The sound of his name on her lips drove him near mad. He growled against her skin and lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her out under him and he looked down at the beauty spread out before him. Her hair, a red curtain, fanned out beneath her. Her skin was flushed and her eyes were hungry for him. He laid down on top of her and as her legs parted so he could settle comfortably between them he groaned. He could feel the heat from in between her legs through their clothes. He leaned down to kiss her again and grinded on her, earning a moan of appreciation. His hand traveled down to her waist as he kissed her, tongues swirling and tangling in their mouths. He slid his hand up under the borrowed tunic and traveled up until they found their destination. Her breasts were heavy in his hand and he massaged them and pulled on her nipples, getting them taut.

He broke the kiss to suck on her nipple through the thin fabric. She arched into his mouth and grabbed ahold of his head, keeping him there. He flicked his tongue over her and sucked until she was squirming beneath him. He forced the tunic up to expose her perfect breasts and gazed at them, appreciating their beauty before he lowered his head to them and feasted on them like a man starved. She moaned louder and wrapped her long legs around his torso and panted as he worshiped every inch of her breasts.

He stopped to take off his own tunic and she dragged his lips back down to her own. Between kisses she said to him "I want you Sandor. I need you. Please." He couldn't deny her. He pulled her into a sitting position and began to take off her tunic. Once it was discarded on the floor she crawled up into his lap, straddling him. She pressed her bare chest against his own and kissed him slowly, passionately. Her hands explored his chest, relishing in the hard surface. She combed her fingers through the hair on his chest and scratched her nails down, down, down. He growled and flipped her on her back, grinding his hips into her roughly. She pushed back up against him, matching his circular pattern.

She reached down between them and grabbed his cock in her hand on the outside of his pants and held on to it tightly. He'd reached his limit, he had to have her now. He sat up to pull off her bottoms, and then his own, and there was a knock on the door.

He wanted to ignore it. He wanted to pretend he hadn't heard the knock and finish stripping Sansa and bury his cock so deep inside her no one would ever be able to separate them. He wanted to make her his in every way he could imagine. But she turned to the door, then looked back up at him. "They're back!" She said panicked. He looked back to the door and they heard a voice on the other side.

"My Lord, it is me. Can you open the door?" They innkeepers wife said.

"Fuck!" Sandor said angrily to himself. "Just a fucking minute." He said louder so she could hear him. He reluctantly climbed off of Sansa and covered her with the cover.

"Where is my tunic? She can't see me like this." She said worried.

"They think you're my wife, remember. It doens't fucking mater that you're half naked in our bed." He reminded her. She nodded up at him and covered herself. He sighed. He much preferred naked Sansa to covered up Sansa. And just saying the words 'our bed' sent a thrill through him that he hadn't expected.

Grudgingly, he walked to the door. He opened it and was harsher than he had intended to be. "What do you want?" He immediately regretted his tone when she shrank away from him and he apologized "Sorry, bad morning." She smiled

"They are gone. I assume they were looking for her." She said, nodding towards Sansa.

Sandor was torn between being his usual prickly self and being kind. The woman hadn't informed the men that Sansa was here after all. "Aye, they were. They wanted to take her back to a very bad man." He said, gauging her reaction.

She smiled at him "I know dear. The Boltons are a horrid lot. I wouldn't turn my worst enemy over to them. You two are safe here." She said trying to ease his fears that she knew he possessed.

"Thank you." Sansa said from the bed.

Sandor looked at the woman and said "We'll need to stay here today. We'll leave at night fall. Will that be a problem?" He asked as nicely as he possibly could. He was still frustrated from having had to stop from making love to his Little Bird. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"That is no problem at all. I will have some breakfast brought up to you two immediately." She said. Before she turned to walk away he said to her, "Thank you." She smiled up at him, nodded her head, and walked away. He closed and locked the door and turned back to the bed.

He frowned as he watched her pulling her found tunic back over her head. "What are you doing?" He said disappointed.

"She said she'd be back with food. We can't very well be doing... Other things when she returns." Sansa reasoned.

Sandor didn't agree, the old woman could watch for all he cared. He wanted Sansa, now. But he could tell the moment had passed and he reached for his own tunic and roughly pulled it over his head. Sansa laughed softly and said "Don't worry Sandor, I won't soon be forgetting where we left off at." And she winked at him.

He leaned down over her and began kissing her again. She was putty in his hands. She molded herself to him and started to pull him down on top of her again. All too soon there was a knock at the door again and she laughed out loud. He scowled and marched to the door to let the old bat back into the room.

 **A/N2: Song is There You Are by Martina McBride. Also, a future heads up. My sex scenes can be explicit, if you haven't figured that out already. If that embarrasses you or makes you uncomfortable... Well, what can I say? I write what I write. Just a heads** up.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I am so very sorry for the lengthy delay. I was in New Mexico in the mountains for almost two weeks and had NO SERVICE! Sometimes it was awesome to be disconnected, but at other times I really missed talking to everyone who wasn't there. I didn't write as much as I had planned to. I expected to have a few chapters done but never had the time. We would hike all day and rest all evening and then go to bed early. I hope y'all can forgive me! I promise I didn't forget this story. I thought about it a few times, but honestly, I spent most of my time enjoying the great outdoors! But, alas, I am back home in Texas and will be much more frequent with my updates. Thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, and followed this story! Y'all are my inspiration. As a reward for y'all's patience I wrote a longer chapter. Also, you'll recognize one scene from the show, with some minor changes. I like how it was done in the show so I am stealing it for my story. Bwahahahaha!**

Chapter 7

 _I'm falling fast but the truth is I'm not scared at all_

 _You climbed my walls_

 _So lay here beside me just hold me and don't let go_

 _This feeling I'm feeling is something I've never known_

 _And I just can't take my eyes off you_

The day passed slower than any one in history ever had. They broke their fast and had their midday meal in their room. Sansa busied herself with packing and repacking all the food and 2 blankets the woman had spared for them. Sandor had given the woman another pouch of coins, and in return she had given them enough bread, cheese, dried meats, wine, and water to last them until they had reached Castle Black. What she had given them was more generous than he had expected. But, then again, who wouldn't do all they could for a woman like Sansa?

Once they had been left alone Sandor had wanted to pick up where they had left off and show Sansa all the ways a man should love a woman. But she had grown shy. She avoided his gaze most of the day and blushed every time their eyes met. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't used to this. To these feelings. If he had wanted a woman in the past, he had taken her. He never had to worry about emotions and what the woman may want. Almost everyone else had been more than willing. Almost everyone else had been paid for. Sansa was different. She wasn't like anyone else he'd ever known. He couldn't name one person who had ever wanted him for him. No one could ever look past his scars or harsh demeanor.

Sansa was unlike anyone else, ever. She didn't seem bothered by his scars. She wasn't scared of his rude attitude anymore. She softened him. Made him a nicer and kinder man. Not to just anyone, though. Mostly only to her. But if he knew that she'd be disappointed otherwise, he would be kind. Sort of. He spent the day thinking, having nothing else to do as they waited impatiently for nightfall. Occasionally they spoke a few words here and there. Nothing worth remembering though.

Around evening time, after they had their supper, Sandor sat next to her on the bed and grabbed her hand. His large and rough hand enveloped her long, slender fingers. He couldn't help but notice how the simple gesture calmed him. Her hand in his felt right. He resisted the urge to smile. What was with all the damn smiling? He wasn't some young, prissy prince. He was a killer. Killers didn't have soft feelings. Did they? She looked up at him expectantly. Blue eyes into brown ones.

"It's almost time to go, Little Bird." He said looking at her porcelain face, marred only by a scratch that was healing nicely. "Are you ready? This next leg of our journey will be the hardest. There are no more inns. No more shelters from the winter. It'll be very cold and we won't have much protection." He said.

She nodded her head and said "I know. I'm ready. It can't be worse than what I'm running from." She reminded him. It's not like he'd ever forget what he'd seen on her shoulder. He shuddered at the thought of how much worse it could be where he hadn't seen.

"You're safe now. You'll never have to go back to that sick fuck as long as I'm alive. I promised to always protect you. I don't take vows, don't much care for 'em. But for you I made an exception. That's a decision I don't regret, and never will." He said. His gaze grew intense as he told her, "I will always be by your side. Always. No one will keep me from you, ever."

Without thinking, Sansa leaned up and kissed him on the lips. It was a chaste kiss. Not one that would lead to anything more. But it portrayed all that she was feeling. She didn't think that she could ever express in words the amount of gratitude she felt towards him and all that he was doing for her. Would continue to do for her. Forever, as he said. When she pulled away he was staring at her. She could see the desire in his eyes, but she could also feel that he was restraining himself. She was grateful for it. A few hours ago she'd been ready to give herself to him. Her feelings on the matter hadn't changed, but after they were inturrupted shyness had crept in. She knew her feelings for him were still there, in more ways than just how a Lady should feel towards her sworn shield. And having him sit so close to her, their legs touching, her hand in his, it took everything in her not to climb on his lap and kiss him until they couldn't stop. But now was not the time. Here was not the place. She knew it was foolish to think so, but she wanted their first time to be a bit more special.

She cleared her throat and gently pulled her hand from his. She stood up and brushed off her dress, impressed at how well the innkeepers wife had washed out the blood from their clothes. She walked around him to the end of the bed where their cloaks were. She picked them both up and handed him his. "We should get ready to go now." She said.

He looked at her for a moment longer then grabbed the cloak from her hand and stood to put in on. They each grabbed a bundle of food and a blanket. Sandor grabbed the wine skin and Sansa the water. Once they had all their belongings in hand he said to her, "Wait here, I'm going down to make sure it's safe and that the horse is saddled. I'll be back for you. Lock the door behind me and don't open it for anyone other than me." She nodded and walked back to sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him after she had locked the door.

Four minutes later he was knocking on the door, "It's me, Little Bird." She quickly stood and walked to the door to unlock it. When she opened it he walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He lead her back up against the door and took her face in his hand, the other one on her waist. Her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected action. Her wide eyes stared up at him and he leaned down to kiss her. This kiss was not gentle. It was demanding and possisive. He held her body tight to his as his tongue sought out hers. Quickly, her hands reached up around his neck and grabbed onto his hair tightly. She held herself to him as desperately as he was to her. And then, just as suddenly as it began, he stopped.

She drew in ragged breaths, trying to calm her nerves that were now scattered to the wind. Without letting her go he said "I wanted one last one before we left. Just in case." He released her and stood back, picking up the items she had dropped. Still flustered, she didn't say a word as she followed him downstairs and out to the side of the building where their horse was saddled and waiting for them. He tied the bundles to the saddle and helped her up. He climbed up behind her and then reached his arms around her to unfold a blanket across her lap. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled at his thoughtfulness. He gave her a small smile in return, but immediately grimaced and looked ahead. "Hold on tight." He said as he kicked the horse and then they were off.

The light in the sky was almost gone as they rode north. They had gotten lucky, the sky was clear and the moon was bright and high in the sky. They rode until the moon had long passed the highest point in the sky. Sandor found a small gathering of trees and rocks that would provide them with good shelter from the cold and he dismounted. He helped Sansa down and then tied up the horse and began to unsaddle him. "We will only be here a few hours. Just until daybreak." He said as he began laying the extra blanket on the cold ground for them and tying his cloak in the trees to make a sort of tent like they had previously.

They weren't as shy this time under the cover of the cloak. She covered them with both the blanket and her cloak and she curled up against his chest, with his arm around her as they slept. He reasoned with himself that this was the best way for them both to stay warm. There'd be no where else to stop for the next 6 days and they needed to stay dry and warm to keep their strength up. At dawn he reluctantly woke the beauty sleeping in his arms. "Come now, Little Bird, it's time to go." She didn't fuss or pout. She woke quickly and began to fold the blankets after she had returned her cloak around her shoulders and raised the hood to keep the warm in. He was impressed. She hadn't once complained. Not after everything that had happened to her. Before and after he had found her. She might be a proper Lady, but she was tougher than most men he knew.

The next five and a half days passed much the same. They would ride all day, stopping only twice to water and feed the horse, eat, and tend to their needs. At night they would build their little camp and cuddle in close together to stay warm. They occasionally shared easy conversation. He told her of his time with her sister and she told him the glossed over version of her last few years. He could tell she was leaving a lot out, but he didn't press her for details. He wasn't sure he'd be able control his anger if he heard anything too descriptive. His previous assumption of her had been correct. She was strong. And brave. And seemingly unbreakable. He found himself becoming more and more at ease around her as each day passed. They laughed at each other's jokes, even the crude ones he made. He tried to be more gentlemanly but it wasn't his nature and didn't come easy to him. She didn't seem to mind one bit.

On the fourth night before they fell asleep he tilted her chin up to him and kissed her softly. She sighed into him and her left hand traveled up to rest on his chest. Her reaction caused him to let the kiss linger longer than he had initially intended. He reluctantly ended the kiss before he got carried away. He may not be a Knight or Lord, but he was a decent enough man to not take Sansa right here on the cold ground. He chuckled when she pouted but he rested his forehead on hers and told her "Not here Little Bird. You deserve better than the cold wet ground." She seemed to agree with him on this and laid her head back on his chest and went to sleep. He pulled her in close to him, squeezing her briefly in a hug before he drifted off himself.

On the sixth day their talking grew more sparse as they neared the Wall. Just after sundown they reached the edge of the tree line and Sandor stopped the horse as they looked at the Wall in front of them. Neither of them had ever been this far north and they were amazed at the sight before them. "Wow." She said, voicing both their thoughts. Her words broke his trance and he nudged the horse forward. He didn't bring the horse to a gallop, but rather kept him at a slow trot. He didn't know what kind of guards were protecting the Wall and he didn't want to come to the gate too fast and scare them into to shooting them down with arrows when they had finally made it.

They heard one horn blowing from the top of the Wall and the gate that was now only 25 yards in front of them opened. Sandor walked the horse through the opening and wrapped his arm tighter around Sansa's waist. She held on to his arm with her hands and leaned back into his chest. They rode inside the walls of the castle a bit and then he stopped the horse. Many men of the Knight's Watch were gathered around them with their hands on the hilts of their swords, but none were drawn. No need for it seeing as Sandor and Sansa were greatly outnumbered.

Before he could say anything Sansa pried his hand from around her waist and started to get off the horse. He stopped her and when she looked at him questioning him he just slid off the horse first then helped her down. Once she was off the horse she walked a few paces away from him. He eyed the men surrounding them and then looked back to her. A young boy walked up to him and reached for the reins, he hesitated for a moment before he handed them over. He watched as the lad led the horse to the stables.

Sansa turned in a slow circle, looking around for her half brother he assumed. The last time he'd seen the bastard he hadn't been paying any attention to him. He had dark hair and it was longer, like his fathers. That was all he remembered. She stopped and he followed her gaze up to the top of the stairs leading into a room. Ahhh, there he is. The Lord Commander of the Knight's Watch. He watched the young Lord as his face changed from curiosity to shock. His red headed sister was the last person he probably ever expected to see here at Castle Black. He walked down the stairs towards her. He spared Sandor a quick glance but focused his attention on his sister. Sandor stepped up closer behind Sansa, but still gave her space.

They stood there, looking at each other, neither one of them making a move towards the other. Silence filled the air and all anyone could hear was their own breathing. Finally, Jon made a move towards her and she ran into his open arms. He grabbed her up into a big hug, lifting her feet off the ground. Sandor looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed like he was intruding on a private moment. When they separated Jon looked her over and smiled at her. "You're looking well, sister. I must admit, you are the last person I ever expected to see riding through those gates." She laughed and only said "Oh how I've missed you Jon." She hugged him again and then he lead her up the stairs.

Sandor followed them and when they reached the door Jon stopped and looked at him. "Where do you think you're going, dog?"

Before he could make a snarky retort Sansa cut in. "Jon, he's my sworn shield. He goes wherever I go." And then she turned from him and walked into the room used for eating. It was too small to really call a hall, but he supposed that's what it was. Jon didn't look too pleased but he was smart to not argue with her.

They sat down at a table nearest the fire and Sandor stood behind Sansa. She turned to him at that moment and said "Why don't you sit here next to me and warm up. There's no need to protect me from my brother." She smiled at him and he obliged.

"What are you doing here? Where have you been?" Jon asked Sansa in a concerned voice.

"I was married off, again. This time to a monster. Petyr Baelish sold me to Ramsay Bolton. I've been his wife for many months now." Jon tensed at her words. Good. Obviously the young bastard had heard of the twisted bastard. Sensing his mood change Sansa continued. "Jon, please don't send me back to him. The things he did to me... I wouldn't wish them on my worst enemy. He has hurt me in ways I never imagined possible." Sandor could hear the panic rising in her voice and he reached under the table to take a hold of her hand. She didn't look at him but she grabbed on to his hand quickly and tightly. He watched her shoulders relax at his touch. He felt a sense of pride knowing his touch alone had that effect on her.

"I won't be sending you anywhere Sansa. I've heard of him. I will have Lord Baelish's head rolling the moment I see him for what he's done to you. And as for Ramsay..." He trailed off.

"Ramsay is mine." Sandor said.

As if just remembering his presence Jon glared at Sandor. "What do you mean he is yours?" He asked.

"Just that. He is mine. I intend on killing him the first chance I get. No one hurts her," Sandor said, nodding towards Sansa as he spoke "and lives."

"She is my sister. I can protect her from here. You don't need to worry about keeping your oath to her. You've brought her here safely. I've got it now." Jon said getting frustrated.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather keep my oath to your sister. You say you can keep her safe, but I don't believe you. Where were you while she was getting tortured and worse at that little fucks hands?" Sandor said with venom in his voice. "Not one of you Starks, Snow or otherwise, have been able to protect her the way she needs it. I am her shield now and I am not going anywhere, unless she asks it of me." He finished, sitting up taller at the table so he could tower over the young man.

"Jon, Sandor, please stop." Sansa said, stopping any further argument. "Sandor is staying here with me. I trust him. He's already killed for me. Numerous times. And not just since he saved me just over a week ago. He saved my life many times in Kings Landing too. He won't hurt me, Jon. Please, I don't want to leave here, but I will if you make him leave." She pleaded with her brother.

He looked at her for a long moment, then looked at Sandor for just as long and sighed. "Fine. He can stay. I'll let the men know of his role and there will be no trouble. So long as you don't start any." Jon aimed the last sentence towards Sandor.

"Only trouble I'll stir is if someone is bothering her." He countered.

"Then it's all settled. I do want to talk with you, but we've had such a long and hard journey. Could he and I eat and sleep and talk with you in the morning?" Sansa asked Jon.

"Yes, of course. I'll get two rooms set up for the both of you." He said.

"Actually, I'd prefer one room with two beds." Sansa requested.

"What? For you and him?" Jon asked confused. Sandor was just as lost as the boy was. "That's not proper, Sansa. He can have his own room. I can make sure it's right next to yours if you prefer." He told her.

"No, that's not what I want. Jon, I don't feel safe when he's not around." She said.

"No one will hurt you here in Castle Black, Sansa." Jon said.

"I didn't think anyone would hurt me in Winterfell either, but it happened all the same. Sandor will be in the same room as me one way or the other. I need to feel safe Jon. I haven't felt safe in years. Not since he left Kings Landing. Please." She said, though she wasn't really giving him a choice.

Jon was obviously upset but he knew that this was a battle that he would not win. However, he surprised Sandor when he spoke with sincere kindness. "Of course, Sansa. Whatever you need to feel safe, I will not stand in your way. I love you and I want you happy. If this is what you want, then it's what you shall have." He smiled at her and stood. They joined him and he hugged her once more. Sandor was beginning to grow jealous of all the touching he was getting to do with her.

He walked them outside and down a walkway and to a door at the end of the hall. He stopped at the door and opened it. Inside there were two beds on opposite sides of the room against the wall. In the middle of them was a fire place. Against the wall that the door was on was a desk and a chair. In front of the hearth was a well worn rug. The furnishings were simple, but they didn't need much.

"I'll send someone up shortly to start the fire and bring you two some food. Your things will be brought here as well." Jon said as he stepped aside so Sansa could walk in the room.

"Thank you Jon." She said as she turned back to face him. He eyed Sandor and then looked back at Sansa, asking if she was ok with his eyes. "We'll be fine. I promise. We'll join you in the morning to break our fast." She said.

"In my chambers, away from everyone, if you don't mind." He said to her.

"In your chambers." She agreed.

He gave Sandor one last glare and walked away. Sandor closed the door behind him and turned to survey the room from within. He looked to the woman before him and told her, "You could have had your own room, you know." He said.

She smiled at him. He was uneasy about the situation she could tell. "Does it bother you being in here with me?" She asked.

Quickly he responded, "No, I just didn't want you thinking I couldn't properly look after you if I wasn't in the same room as you."

"I know you'd get better sleep if you're in here with me instead of standing outside my door all night." She said knowingly. He was still surprised that she would even bother to worry about his comfort.

He didn't say anything in response to her comment but instead said, "Get some rest Little Bird. I'll handle everything with the fire and food and such." To his relief she yawned and walked towards the bed, removing her cloak along the way. He walked towards her and pulled the covers back for her. When she sat on the edge of the bed to remove her boots he kneeled down in front of her and began taking them off for her. She didn't say anything, but just watched him. He quickly undid the laces and took them off. He set them on the floor just under the bed and stood up to tuck her in as she laid down. She still hadn't spoken but she watched him intently. Once she was all settled in he leaned down and kissed her forehead. She yawned again and he walked to his bed and laid down on top of it for a few minutes. He was slowly being lulled asleep by her slow and even breathing as she slept.

Right as he was drifting there was a knock at the door. He cursed under his breath and went to the door. There were three stewards there with their belongings, fire wood, and food. He told them to be quiet and let them in. One of the boys set their belongings down on the ground near the desk while the other set the food on the desk. They made a quick exit afterwards, their fright plain on their face. The third made quick work starting the fire and was gone only a minute after he had entered.

Once they had all left Sandor locked the door and laid down once more. Sansa hadn't stirred once during all the commotion. He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

A few hours later he was awoken by the sound of a chair scrapping across the floor. He sat up quickly and shook the sleep from his head.

"I'm sorry, I was trying not to wake you." Sansa said.

"It's ok. I'm hungry too." He added as he walked towards the desk. He grabbed a bowl of now cold stew and leaned against the wall as he quickly ate the bowl's contents. Sansa ate slower and more delicately then he had. Ever the Lady she was. Once he was finished he looked through their things for the wine skin. He opened it and took a long drink, relishing the warmth the liquid brought to his insides. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down to see her hand stretched out, asking for a drink.

"This one's the wine." He said, assuming she wanted the water.

"I know." Was all she said in reply. He cocked an eyebrow at her as he handed her the skin. She took a small sip, and after tasting it she took a longer drink. He smiled at her. She was full of surprises. He reached for it back and she handed it to him. She stood up and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the fire. He followed her like a puppy.

She sat down in front of the hearth on the rug and he joined her. For a few minutes they did not speak, only passed the wine back and forth between themselves and drank. After a while Sansa was getting quite light headed. She hiccuped and Sandor took the wine from her and said jokingly "I think the Lady has had enough." She giggled and said, "I agree."

Now that she had finally built up enough liquid courage, Sansa could continue with the next part of her plan. She watched Sandor as he took another drink of wine and when he was done she put the top back on it and took it from his hands, setting it on the floor beside them. Sansa was tall, but even sitting down he towered over her. His large frame could cover her up completely. Nervously she sat up on her knees and moved to straddle him. He didn't know what to think of her actions, but instinctively his hands when to rest on her hips. Her skin tingled wherever he touched her.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes. She pushed his hair off the scarred part of his face so she could view it in its entirety. He didn't flinch away from her touch. She smiled at him and let her fingers lightly brush over his ruined skin. He watched her intently as her gaze focused on where her fingers played on his skin. He saw the sadness as it creeped into her eyes, but he found no pity there. For that he was grateful. He didn't want her pity. Or anyone else's for that matter. She traced the ripples and scars left behind from his brothers torture. Her fingers moved over his forehead, down by what was left of his ear, and across his cheek to finish on his lips. He kissed them when they touched him.

She looked up into his eyes then and her hand fell from his face, moving back to his shoulder. Her lips parted as she looked at him, unsure of what to do next. He knew what she was after, but could tell she was inexperienced. At least in any real love making. He asked her, his voice barely above a whisper, "Are you sure this is what you want Little Bird?" Without breaking his gaze she said "Yes, I'm sure. You're what I want Sandor. No one and nothing else. Only you."

At her words he wrapped his arms tight around her and brought her in for a passionate kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance in their mouths as their hands roamed hungrily over the others body, desperate to feel everything. He had told himself that when the time came, because after the inn there was no if, only when, that he would take his time with her. He promised himself that he would lay her down and love her gently, showing her everything she had missed out on. Give her everything no man ever had, and ever would if he had his way.

He'd lied to himself. She was everything he'd ever wanted and the only thought that plagued his mind since he first laid eyes on her all those years ago. His feelings towards her had changed over time. When he had met her she had only been a girl and he had only wanted to protect her. But when he saw how she had grown into a woman, his thoughts and feelings shifted. Grew. He now felt towards her the way a man feels towards a woman. He wanted to love and protect her as a man does a woman. He wanted to show her that love, express it in every way imaginable. But that night was not tonight. Tonight he was drunk off her scent. He was swept away by the feel of her soft lips against his. The way her body pressed up against his was his undoing.

Having some sense left he stood up and her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her to his bed and laid down on top of her, settling between her legs. They never broke their kiss as he moved her. Once his full weight was on her she moaned into his mouth and circled her hips to press up against his bulge. He could feel her heat as it pressed against him.

Fuck gentle. Fuck slow. Fuck what he promised himself. Gods she felt amazing under him. He couldn't take it any longer and he sat up and ripped off his tunic. He flipped her on the bed and she yelped at the sudden movement and he undid her dress quicker than she thought possible. Once the garment was loose he flipped her back onto her back and sat her up. He grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, not caring if he tore the fabric. Once the dress was off he tossed it behind him and let it fall haphazardly on the floor somewhere.

As he busied himself removing his pants she took off her small clothes and then laid back on the bed, open and waiting. For him. He kneeled between her parted legs and looked her over. She flushed under his gaze but did not try to cover herself. He leaned down and kissed her once more, tasting nothing but want and desire on her lips. Then he sat up and grabbed her legs just under her knees. He pulled her forward and once her bottom was near his knees he grabbed ahold of her hips and pulled her onto his lap while she was still laying down. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his tip was pushing against her wet lips, ready for him. He paused for only a brief moment before roughly pulling her towards him as he thrusted deep inside her. She cried out with a mixture of pain and pleasure at the sudden stretching his girth did to her.

Gods she felt so damn good. She was so wet and so tight. He growled as he buried himself inside her. Finally. He knew she'd feel good. Knew it'd probably be better than anything he'd ever had before. But he hadn't been prepared for this. He knew for a fact that he didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve this. Fuck what he deserved. He pulled out and began to thrust into her over and over at a punishing pace. He watcher as her perfect tits bounced each time he pounded into her and the sight drove him near mad.

He needed to be closer. Feel her skin, slick with sweat already, against his. He unwrapped her legs from around his waist and lowered himself on her. She pulled her knees up by her sides, allowing him deeper access to her. He kissed her as he slowed his pace, but only a bit. He felt like a teen again, about to loose himself too quickly. He didn't want this moment to end. He let his hand travel across her body, stroking and massaging everything it touched. He needed to taste more of her. He kissed down her neck and to her breasts all while slowing his movements. He devoured her breasts. Kissing them, sucking and flicking his tongue over her nipples. She moaned loudly as her fingers dug into his shoulders.

He needed more. He wanted to taste every part of her. He pulled out of her and she groaned at the loss of him. He moved down the bed and buried his head between her legs. He licked up her soaking folds and her sweet taste made his head feel dizzy. He let his tongue work it's way past her walls to her core and when she moaned his name he became more vigorous in his movements. His tongue swirled and his lips sucked as she bucked below him. He held her as still as he could manage with his hands on her hips but she was getting close to the edge. Right before she unraveled he slid two fingers insider her and massaged her inner walls, coaxing out her orgasm. She screamed out his name and he didn't care who heard as she came undone.

Before she even had a chance to come down from her high he was back inside her, working at a steady and bruising pace. He felt her building up to another peak and it drove him over the edge just as she tumbled down again. He collapsed on top of her as he emptied himself deep inside her. She shuddered under him and lightly stroked his hair as her breathing slowed.

"It's never been like that before." She said.

He was a little worried that maybe she hadn't liked it. But he thought she had. As if she could sense his worry she told him "I've never enjoyed it. It's always been, well, you can imagine. But with you..." She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "Will it always be like this?"

She was looking at him with eyes so full of trust that it nearly broke his heart. He stroked her cheek and said "I hope so Little Bird." He kissed her sweetly and told her "Let's get some sleep. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow." She settled her head back on his chest and fell asleep. They stayed like that, in each other's arms, for the rest of the night. Getting a more restful sleep than they had in years.

 **A/N: Well that was fun! Song is Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Lady Antebellum.**


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